


The Uninvited Guest

by Wolfsbride



Category: James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: Age Difference, F/M, Facial Shaving, Older Woman/Younger Man
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-07
Updated: 2014-09-07
Packaged: 2018-02-16 11:31:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,756
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2268114
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wolfsbride/pseuds/Wolfsbride
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>M comes home to a surprise.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Uninvited Guest

**Author's Note:**

  * For [tayryn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tayryn/gifts), [Persiflage](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Persiflage/gifts), [Tinnean](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tinnean/gifts), [mysticmelodies](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mysticmelodies/gifts), [LadyDuchess](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyDuchess/gifts).



Bond stretches fully as he lies in bed, even going so far as to wiggle his toes. It’s the best sleep he’s had in ages and he’s loathe to get up but work’s a-calling. Throwing back the covers, he sits up and swings his legs over the side. Sitting on the edge of the bed, he scrubs his hand over his cropped hair while he yawns. 

He rests there a moment before forcing himself to get to his feet. He pads, naked as the day he was born, to the kitchen and surveys the contents of the fridge, frowning when he sees it’s got hardly anything food like inside. He needs to go shopping.

Snagging the container of juice, which looks more reputable than the milk, he chugs half the contents. Wiping his mouth, he replaces the juice and closes the fridge door. He stands there a moment, scratching his belly, then decides he’d better go shower. 

He showers quickly, then gets out and wraps a towel securely around his hips. The second towel he passes over his head, leaving it draped over his shoulders afterwards. Wiping the steam from the mirrored medicine cabinet, he leans close, squinting at his reflection. 

Rubbing his chin, he figures he can’t get away without shaving, and unzips a small leather pouch that’s sitting on the counter to the left of the sink. Inside is a small container of shaving foam and a razor. He lathers completely, then picks up the razor.

~*~*~*~*~*~

M lets herself into her flat with a weary sigh. So much for her get away weekend. Tanner had cleared her whole schedule for Thursday and Friday and she’d left Wednesday night, expecting to have a relaxing four day break, such as the brochure promised. 

She really should have known better. The whole thing had been such a disaster that she’d chosen to come back early Friday morning. Lord, but she couldn’t abide idiots.

As she throws her keys on the little table beside the door and goes to hang up her coat and bag, she pauses. Looking around, she sees evidence that there’s been someone in her flat. Her immediate thought is Bond, but usually the man is far more discreet. Stepping out of her shoes, she slips her Baby Browning out of her bag, then goes on the prowl. A thorough search reveals the covers on her bed tossed aside and M is torn between rage and disgust at the violation of her space. 

When she reaches the bathroom, she realizes that it is occupied and steeling herself, she nudges the door open with the barrel of her gun. Her jaw drops. Inside the bathroom is a half-naked man, the towel around his hips clinging so tightly as to delineate the shape of his rear. She would recognize that arse anywhere even without the telling scars on the back of one James Bond. 

M takes a deep breath. “Agent 007! What in God’s name do you think you’re doing here!?” She takes great pleasure in the fact that she’s startled him enough to make him jump, which in turn makes him nick his cheek. 

He swears lustily, before swiping at his cheek. When he turns to face her, his eyes are wide. “Ma’am! Err… I.. You weren’t supposed to back for another two days!”

M snorts. She’s no longer surprised that Bond seems privy to all facets of her life. “That is hardly the point, 007! Breaking and entering is one thing, but it’s clear you’ve been living in my flat while I was away! I can’t believe the nerve! I should have you dismissed straightaway. Don’t you have a home to go to?!”

Bond slumps back against the counter, hands gripping the edge, hoping that M won’t notice the effect her temper has on his libido. He’s never met a woman that gets him going when she gets riled. Usually, he just walks out when women get mad. 

M is unique in that respect. She’s a beautiful woman, despite, or perhaps because of her age. Her features having matured like a fine wine. However, when she’s angry, it seems to pull her attractiveness into sharp focus. Her eyes gleam; her cheeks flush; her bosom heaves. He’s often wondered if she knows that, because of their size, ninety nine percent of his attention is on her breasts when she’s busy giving him a bollocking. 

He finds M fascinating, always has, right from the moment she recruited him. It’s been frustrating that she doesn’t take him seriously, but then, he can’t really blame her. She’s M, and he’s a lowly agent. What’s he got to offer her that she couldn’t get from someone else, in a much more elegant package? 

He attempts to marshal his thoughts.

“Well, if someone hadn’t sold my flat.” He tries and fails to keep his tone from falling into petulance.

“Oh, for Christ’s sake Bond! I told you. It's standard procedure. Besides that was months ago! We bought you another damn flat!” M raises a hand to rub at her temple, only to remember she’s still holding her gun.

Bond eyes her warily. “I liked my old flat,” he dares to mutter.

“Oh, honestly!” M huffs. “Mr Bond. I have had a very trying yesterday. I am very much tempted to shoot you where you stand. If you continue to act in this childish manner, I’ll do it in spite of the paperwork involved.” 

Looking at her closely, Bond can see that she does look a little worn around the edges. He’s immediately concerned. “I’m sorry, ma’am. You’re quite right. I’ll clean up and get out of your way.”

The turnaround in his demeanour surprises her. She was sure he would pout for much longer. She’s about to make comment about his half shaven appearance when her gaze drifts lower. She stops, blatantly staring, then looks back up at Bond. 

He’s blushing and that’s another surprise. 

M finds herself considering the situation. Really she should still be furious with Bond. He’s disobeyed her order about breaking into her flat numerous times. Though to be honest, she only has herself to blame for that, as he probably sees it as encouragement that she’s never officially reprimanded him. 

But more than that, he’s apparently slept in her bed, and made short work of her food, if the state of the kitchen can be believed. She acknowledges that if it’d been anyone else, she’d still be feeling outraged and disgusted, and she wouldn’t hesitate to throw the book at them. However, it’d never be anyone else. Only Bond would take such liberties.

And only because she lets him. She’s honest enough to admit that she finds his attentions flattering, though she wonders about his sincerity. He is, after all, a very skilled agent; his appearance is pleasing and his personality is such that he keeps her on her toes. She would have to be dead not to appreciate Bond’s attributes. 

She’s never been one to let opportunities pass her by; and this is the granddaddy of all opportunities. Stepping all the way into the bathroom, she pushes the door closed with her heel. She steps into Bond’s personal space, close enough to feel his prick pushing against her tummy through the towel. 

She slips her left arm under his own as it hangs by his side, making sure to rub up against him as she does so, and carefully lays her Baby Browning on the counter behind Bond. The height difference means she’s got a great view of his chest and she breathes over his skin.

Bond shudders; his hips hitch up. “M,” he groans. 

The height difference also means that Bond is able to look straight down her top and M smiles to herself when she sees that he’s taking every advantage. It amuses and pleases her that Bond finds her sexually attractive. She’d always thought his incessant flirting was more out of habit than any real interest. 

Sliding her right hand down Bond’s right arm, M relieves him of the razor he’s still holding limply. She steps back a little, just enough to give her room, then lifting her left hand, she grips his chin gently and turns his head to the right. Deftly, she draws the razor over Bond’s cheek. 

Lifting it clear at the bottom of her stroke, she leans close, and slides her arm under Bond’s again. She sets the razor down, so that she can turn on the tap. This action presses her tight against Bond, her nipples rubbing over his chest through the silk of her bra and blouse. 

Bond shivers, prick twitching at the extended contact. His breathing deepens. “Oh God,” he murmurs.

She rinses the razor, then moves back, and clears another strip of foam. Meticulously she clears the right side of his face, one strip of foam at a time. She never lets go of his chin.

After she’s finished with that side of Bond’s face, she brushes her fingers over it to make sure she hasn’t missed anything. His cheek is smooth. Using the ends of the towel looped around his neck, she pulls his head down a little, then presses a kiss to his newly shorn cheek. Bond jerks slightly at the touches. She grips his chin again, and turns his head to face her. 

She watches him watch her. His eyes have gone a dark, dark blue. She has to let go in order to shave his chin, and as she does so, she rests her hand on his bare chest. She idly traces his right nipple. When next she looks up, Bond’s pupils have expanded, swallowing up the color, until there’s only the merest ring remaining. His breathing is slow and heavy. 

Her own breathing matches his; her nipples have beaded into tight peaks and her pussy throbs. M clears her throat.

“Tilt your head up,” she whispers.

Bond obeys; his Adam’s apple bobbing in response to her order.

She shaves under his chin, continuing to rinse the razor as she goes. Bond turns his head without prompting so she can work on the left side of his face. By the time she’s finished, he is tenting the towel so much it’s in danger of falling off completely.

M shakes off the razor and lays it on the counter. Then she takes the towel from around Bond’s neck and pats his face dry. He’s staring at her like he’s never seen her before. It’s a look she decides she likes very much.

She breathes deeply for a moment to steady herself then: “Mm... You’ve been a very naughty boy, Mr Bond. I think you need to be punished.” Standing on tip toe, she bites the crook of his neck.

“Fuck!”

M laughs throatily. “Eventually, yes. But for now, I think you should lick me to climax.”

Bond whimpers, then lets go of the death grip he’s had on the counter top, and wraps his hands around her waist, lifting her up. M grips his shoulders at the sudden movement. Turning, Bond lowers her onto the edge of the counter. His hands slip from her waist to under her skirt’s hem. 

His palms slide over her silk covered knees and thighs. He stops when his fingers encounter the lace of her garters and suspenders. Looking up, he catches M’s gaze, then leans in to kiss her hard. She responds in kind and the next couple of minutes pass, with the two of them fighting for dominance over the kiss. Finally, M pulls back and pushes at Bond’s shoulder. 

“Down.”

Bond sinks to his knees between M’s spread legs. M wiggles her skirt up to her waist, with Bond’s help and thinks idly that she should start leaving off her knickers as Bond eases them down and off. She hooks her right leg over Bond’s shoulder and smirks. 

“Go on then, Bond. Show me what you’ve got.” 

Bond curses, then leans forward and breathes softly over M’s pussy before licking her lightly. 

M shudders and sighs. “Oh. That’s very nice.” She has to suppress a giggle when she feels Bond smiling against the lips of her pussy. Running her hands over his head, she tugs a little on his ears. Bond takes the hint and starts to lick her faster and deeper. 

Arching her back, M pinches and pulls on her nipples as Bond works his tongue inside her. “Oh! Oh God! Yes,” she hisses. “Yes, just like that!”

She flexes her right leg, trying to get him closer. Her left leg bangs against the door of the cupboard that is below the sink. Pleasure is coiling slowly through her body, then, suddenly, Bond slips a finger inside her, alongside his tongue, and M clutches his head and shouts.

“James!”

The use of his first name seems to spur Bond on, he withdraws his finger, then, a moment later, he pushes in with two. His tongue flutters over M’s clit, as his fingers twist, stretching her. M wiggles against his mouth, panting harshly. 

In one smooth motion, Bond draws his hand back and quickly shoves three fingers inside M’s pussy, at the same time that he nips her clit. The sting of pain tips her over the edge. She’s barely into the throes of her orgasm when Bond slides her right leg off his shoulder as he stands. 

He’s lost the towel and his prick is swollen, fully flushed with blood. He holds M’s ankle with one hand, spreading her wide. His other hand has a stranglehold on his cock. “Oh Christ! M! Please!”

“Lube,” M gasps. She has no doubt that Bond won’t have any patience to take her gently, and while she’s very much looking forward to a hard ride, she’d like to be able to walk when it’s all over.

Bond whines as he looks around wildly. M flails an arm in the direction of her medicine cabinet, which is set into the wall above the sink. Letting go of her leg, Bond yanks the mirrored doors open and almost upends the contents into the sink in his haste. He manages to find the lube and opens it with shaking hands. Free of his grip, his cock jerks rhythmically, small drops of pre-come leaking from the tip.

He moans as he coats himself with the lube, then again when he pushes three fingers back inside M and feels her clenching around them. M grunts and rocks down on his fingers as her the spasms from her orgasm get harder again. Stepping closer, Bond slides his prick into M in one hard push, slipping his fingers out as his balls rest flush against M’s pussy. 

Stilling, Bond bites his lip as he concentrates on not coming instantly. He wants nothing more than to pull out and slam his aching cock back into M. He struggles against the urge to just fuck without giving M a chance to adjust. 

M has no such reticence. She bucks against him, gasping loudly. “James! Please!”

Bond grips her thighs. “Fuck! M! Stop moving!”

Forcing her eyes open, M focuses on Bond. He looks like he’s hanging on by a thread. She hooks her legs around the backs of his. “It’s alright, James.”

Grunting, Bond braces himself, one hand on the counter, the other against the wall by M’s head, then begins to thrust, hard and fast. He pants roughly, breath stirring M’s hair as his head dips low.

M grasps at him, wrapping her arms around him as well as she can with the way he’s moving. He’s rubbing her in the most delicious manner and she can feel her body working towards another climax. She digs her fingers into the tops of Bond’s shoulders as her body curls into his.

Bond’s hips stutter, his thrusts growing erratic, the force of them shoving M up against the wall. Trembling, he moans her name as he freezes, then plunges several times, spilling inside of M. M clings to him as her climax hits her. 

Slumping, Bond rubs his cheek against M’s hair. “Christ.”

M laughs weakly. “Well, this certainly makes up for my horrible Thursday.”

A few minutes pass, then Bond wonders out loud. “Do I still have to go to work today?”

M smacks him. “Yes. And so do I. Now let me down.”

Stepping back, Bond helps M off the counter, then assists her in removing the rest of her clothes. He grins as M takes his hand and leads him into the shower.


End file.
